


the urge to love you is stronger

by thatwasanticlimactic



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Fire Lord Zuko (Avatar), Fluff and Angst, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Gen, Hurt Sokka (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Zuko (Avatar), Sokka (Avatar) Has ADHD, Sokka (Avatar) Has Tourette's, Sokka (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Sokka (Avatar)-centric, Tourette's Syndrome, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, and Zuko delivers:), but he's a good boyfriend:), i wanted it to be cute, in this fic we hate premonitory urge:), premonitory urge, the ending is cheesy sue me, this is like two ish years since the war ended?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatwasanticlimactic/pseuds/thatwasanticlimactic
Summary: "Councilman Qiang’s chair was one of the most aggravating chairs in the entire world.Sokka hated that chair. No, it wasn’t because it was special or different than the others, it didn’t look weird or anything of the sort.Sokka just really wanted to touch it. More than that, he needed to touch it.The council meeting of the day felt like an echo chamber; the same old men were complaining about the same old things and suggesting the same stupid solutions to the same problems they caused. Even if Qiang’s chair wasn’t distracting Sokka, he doubted he would have even had a chance to add anything to the conversation. Even Zuko, the literal Fire Lord, could barely so much as open his mouth.And it was ridiculous. Sokka had been doodling his absolutely beautiful boyfriend during the meeting, but when he had taken his eyes off of his drawing to steal another glimpse at Zuko, his neck twitched to the side and he caught sight of the edge of Qiang’s chair."[orIn the midst of a council meeting, Sokka gets the (premonitory) urge to touch the back of a councilman's chair. But Zuko understands. And is so kind. Zuko could make anything better.]
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 144





	the urge to love you is stronger

**Author's Note:**

> hi!!! I caved and wrote another small Sokka with TS oneshot instead of working on my wips:)
> 
> I didn't think it was necessary to write all of Sokka's tics in this, so I just wrote some that were relevant? Hopefully it works alright haha!
> 
> This is based on my personal experience with premonitory urge, but not all experiences with it are the same! (I might have written a lot about it at the beginning... it might be more of that than Zukka but that was an accident).

Councilman Qiang’s chair was one of the most aggravating chairs in the entire world.

Sokka _hated_ that chair. No, it wasn’t because it was special or different than the others, it didn’t look weird or anything of the sort.

Sokka just _really_ wanted to touch it. More than that, he _needed_ to touch it.

The council meeting of the day felt like an echo chamber; the same old men were complaining about the same old things and suggesting the same stupid solutions to the _same problems they caused._ Even if Qiang’s chair wasn’t distracting Sokka, he doubted he would have even had a chance to add anything to the conversation. Even Zuko, _the literal Fire Lord,_ could barely so much as open his mouth.

And it was ridiculous. Sokka had been doodling his absolutely beautiful boyfriend during the meeting, but when he had taken his eyes off of his drawing to steal another glimpse at Zuko, his neck twitched to the side and he caught sight of the edge of Qiang’s chair.

It started with a burning sensation in his hands, the sensation lingered still as it increased with a trembling and Sokka knew-- _he knew--_ that he needed to touch the chair.

He needed to run up to the chair and rub his hand across the pointed part at the top, wedging his fingers between every crack to see how far they would fit and know what the wood would feel like.

But they were in the middle of a meeting-- a formal meeting at that-- and he couldn’t just get up and rub the chair of a councilman he barely knew. And honestly, he didn’t even _want_ to touch the chair. He wanted to stay in his seat and wait for an opportunity to share his piece about the issues with the Fire Nation trade routes.

The pain running down his arm and up to his brain reminded him that he couldn’t.

Minute five of staring at the edge of the chair and sweat started to gather on his forehead. He tried to swallow, but he couldn’t dislodge it from the middle of his throat.

Pathetic as it seemed (as he felt), Sokka wanted to cry.

He shifted his position, crossing his right leg over his left despite knowing his leg would ache that night. One hand went from his stomach to in a fist under his chin and the other from resting on his leg to clenching his arm. It wasn’t his most comfortable position by far, but it was something to distract him.

His neck ached as it twitched once more, this time extending as far as possible (which, _ow)_ , causing his gaze to return to the chair that caused all of his problems at the meeting thus far.

_“Chah-chah-chah-chah!”_

He felt his face heat up, ducking his head to avoid the staring (because the staring would only make it worse and he wanted to touch that chair so badly).

Great, now he’s reached the point where he’s thinking about the chair so much his tics decided to verbalize it. Fantastic.

He started tapping his foot.

Someone was speaking but it wasn’t Zuko so Sokka didn’t care enough to pay attention to who it was. Their voice wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t quiet either. Kind of in between.

It was dull, reminded him of static-- the kind of sound that made him squirm uncomfortably.

He fluttered his lips, shifting his arms once more so one was reaching over his shoulder to touch his back and the other was playing with some of his stray hairs.

It was like the chair was taunting him-- staring at him as if to say _“bet you can’t touch me”_. Sokka could feel himself leaning forward in his own chair, trying to get himself as close as he could to the object of his hatred.

The burning flared up, yanking his mind away from his body and it hurt it hurt _it hurt!_

On some level, the only thought he could process (besides “must touch chair”, of course) was _it’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not fair_ (because everything must be repeated in threes. No more, no less).

If he were alone in his room or taking a walk with Zuko, he would be able to run forward and fill the emptiness residing in his fingertips.

This was a council meeting, though. There was no way he could just stand up, run across the room to the chair, and rub it while Qiang was sitting in it. Not only would that be disrespectful, but it would be embarrassing. And not just for him, but for Zuko who would have to deal with the aftermath of his incompetence.

Sokka was vaguely aware that someone else began speaking, and he tried to pay attention, really, he did, but his head was tingling, his fingers were twinging. It took everything in himself to keep from going to the chair, to stop himself from trying to lighten the load on his fingers by stretching his hand in the direction of the chair.

Time dragged on (he stopped counting the seconds). The meeting was never ending. A sort of desperate yearning was all that was left of him and his shaking body. His doodle of Zuko had long since been forgotten, the drawing unfinished and overtaken by uneven lines he attempted to draw for just a little bit of consistency (but those lines were crooked and messy and wrong _\-- wrong wrong!)_ to focus on.

He sniffed. Switch the positions of his arms. Tucked one leg under him. Swung the other.

The councillors just kept talking, but their words echoed, forgein to his ears. He couldn’t process anything said, for it all sounded like that horrible static to him. And he was overcome with the need to cover his ears with his hands to block out the painful sound. But that was rude and he couldn’t.

His mouth was dry, he eventually noticed. With every lip flutter or verbal exclamation he uttered without control, he lost more and more of any of the wetness he could salvage.

Oh, and he still burned. His body was on fire, aching and melting.

He couldn’t remember at what point he had lost his breath, but he realized that he couldn’t breathe after a failed attempt to suck in air.

One of his hands formed into a fist before he could stop it, slamming repeatedly against his leg. It didn’t hurt, no, he was already far too engrossed in agony to feel anything from it. He emitted a sound resembling choking, but it was too quiet for anyone to hear.

And there that chair sat-- that stupid, arrogant, infuriating chair-- mocking him from across the room. Teasing him, _testing_ him.

Another accidental glance at it and Sokka's body was in the verge of combusting.

Everything was tight, even his own arms wrapped around his body felt too constricting, like he was cutting off his own circulation. He wanted nothing more than to see the face of his boyfriend (or his sister. Or his mother…), for their eyes to meet and for Zuko to tell him _I hate all of this why won’t they stop talking_ with one glance. But each time he so much as turned his head to try and get Zuko’s attention, he blinked. And blinked. And blinked _(one, two, three- one, two, three- one, two, three)._ Twisting and maneuvering so he saw not his beloved boyfriend, but the bane of his existence.

Even his own body was working against him (but didn’t it always?).

He gurgled, a forced attempt at quiet laughter as Aunt Wu’s words from two years back flashed through his mind: _Your future is full of struggle and anguish. Most of it, self-inflicted._

She was never right about anything, Sokka still to this day refused to believe in her and her convenient lack of science and logical thought, but those words lingered far longer than he was willing to admit.

Still though, she was wrong. It wasn’t technically his own fault that he was struggling and full of anguish at the moment. Rather, it was his body’s.

Soon-- later-- time wasn’t real when all he could think about was a chair-- the static vanished, replaced with the sound of his own heavy breathing.

Something wet fell from his eyes, and Spirits, he was crying. Had he finally reached that point? Sokka moved to grab his pad, if only to shield the rest of the councillors from seeing the pathetic mess that he was, when he grabbed hold of nothing.

His body lurched forward and he waved his arms wildly in an attempt to grab ahold of _something_. He could barely feel or see the desk in front of him, but somehow he knew he had grabbed it.

There was… yes, there was a voice in the back of his head. It was soft, it was the feeling of fingers gently running through his hair, of touching… touching… touching… _(because there has to be three, there has to be three, there has to be three!)_ … and the chair!

He jostled, attempting to untangle his limbs from wherever they were. It was hard, with no sound or sight, to find himself, so he struggled, pulling and tugging but unable to know when or if he managed to free anything.

The voice spoke just a bit louder than before. It wasn’t static-- no. It was kind and-and raspy and-

“Mm, ‘uko?”

He couldn’t tell if his words were coherent or not. All he knew is that he moved his mouth and formed letters.

A barely audible “Yes, Penguin, I’m right here” rushed into his ears.

With a gasp, he came back to life.

His eyes were closed, was the first thing he noticed. Slowly, he opened them, blinking furiously as light flooded his vision. Next, he realized one hand was covering his left ear and the other was grasping the table so tightly his knuckles had paled. He was not sitting in his chair, rather, he was standing on it, crouched in a ball-like position, rocking back and forth.

Standing before him was Zuko, his beautiful Zuko. He stood on the other side of his desk, far enough away to not make his body tense or feel restrained but close enough to clearly see him take a long and controlled breath.

Once, twice… Zuko looked at him expectantly but he only did it twice and the number two was pounding against his forehead.

 _“Thu-thu-thu-thu-thruh--”_ He couldn’t get the word out. A choked sob fell from his lips instead and before he could stop it, his breaths were quick and heavy--

“Hey.”

Sokka looked up and watched as Zuko took a third breath in similar fashion to the two before.

His shoulders fell, he unclenched his fingers slightly. _“Tha-than-n-n-tha--”_ Words were hard for him today, it seemed.

“You’re welcome, Penguin,” replied Zuko, a glint of understanding in his eyes. “Can you do that for me? In and out three times, just like that?”

Sokka cocked his head not in confusion at his boyfriend’s words, but at the feeling inside of him. The burning and tingling and-- _oh._

When Zuko shifted, Sokka caught sight of the chair-- the now empty chair. He swiveled his head, heart racing at the sight of the empty room. He and Zuko were the only ones left.

The chair was right there and the room was empty.

There was no one to stop him now and the desperation encompassing him was so strong.

Removing his hand from his ear, he pushed at the desk, shoving his chair back in the process, and jumped over the desk preventing him reaching his destination, sprinting to the chair.

His hands were a mess when he reached it, trembling with so much force that he doubted he could hold anything without it falling from his grasp. Either way, he lunged at the piece of wood, immediately pressing his hands against the edge and feeling every corner of it that he could. He wiggled his fingers in between the cracks, sardonically giggling with a mixture of joy and relief when they managed to fit.

When finished seeking revenge on the chair (because yes, he did kick it when he finished), he collapsed on the ground, panting heavily. Exhaustion swept over him, and all he wanted to do at the moment was close his eyes and take a nap.

Sokka’s face flushed as soon as Zuko entered his field of vision, worry clearly written on his face. Yes, in the moment he had forgotten his boyfriend was in the room too, watching him weirdly rubbing a chair.

Sighing, Sokka beckoned his boyfriend over, patting the space on the ground next to him. Hesitantly, Zuko complied, still sitting further away just in case.

“You okay?” the bender asked hesitantly.

He nodded lethargically. “I am now.” Sokka poked Zuko’s shoulder with his finger, wiggling his eyebrows.

His boyfriend rolled his eyes (but he was smiling so it’s fine, he’s not really upset with him, he’s not) but shifted slightly. Sokka eagerly flopped his head on Zuko’s shoulder, groaning in delight when he felt him take his hair tie out and run his fingers through his hair.

“H-- _huh-huh-huh--_ how long has the meeting been over?” questioned Sokka, fearing the answer.

“Awhile now,” responded Zuko.

“Mhm,” was all he managed in return, fully captivated by the warmth of Zuko’s hands in his hair. “Feels nice.”

He heard Zuko chuckle. “I’m glad it does.” He paused. “Wanna talk about what happened? You had me worried.”

Sokka twitched, forcing his eyes open. “Did I interrupt the meeting?”

Zuko pursed his lips. “No, you didn’t, Penguin. No one noticed but me,” he assured, eyes narrowed. “I know you’re trying to avoid talking about it, but you know you’ll feel better once you tell me what happened.”

He peeled his head off of his boyfriend’s shoulder, running a hand over his tired eyes. “I needed… I needed to touch Qiang’s chair.”

The confused puzzled look on Zuko’s face was adorably cute, and honestly, Sokka didn’t blame him for not understanding his jumbled mess of words. That didn’t stop him from chuckling at the expression. “I sometimes get… I get these ur-- _ur-ur-urges-ur--_ ges? I don’t know. Where I need to-I need to touch things.” He took a deep breath. “And it-it hurts when I don’t touch it and I just-- _I had_ to touch his chair-- _chair chair--_ but I couldn’t because the meeting and I panicked and it hurt, babe, it really… hurt…” he trailed off, messing with the edges of his shirt.

“Is this a thing that happens to you often?” asked Zuko, voice soft.

“Kinda,” admitted Sokka, biting his cheek and smiling sheepishly. “I mean, it’s usually not this bad-- _ba-ba-bad-bad-bad--_ , I promise!”

It was hard to fathom the look on Zuko’s face, hard to even use words to express how the small but so real smile made his heart flutter, how the tenderness in his eyes alone made him melt. Whenever Zuko looked at him like that, Sokka felt so important. And loved. And special.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Sokka shrugged. "Didn't think it was worth it."

Zuko gave him _The Look._ "Sokka, you know you can tell me these things. I won't think any less of you."

No, Zuko wouldn't think any less of him, that he was certain of. The bender's heart was too big to hate for no reason. No, it was because he was too weak and scared.

So he said nothing, staring blankly at his boyfriend.

Zuko frowned ever so slightly, then his eyes lit up. “Can I hug you?”

Spirits, Zuko knew he had immunity and didn’t need to ask, but he always did. Just the amount of thought that went into making sure he was comfortable was so precious.

Sokka nodded, borderline flinging himself in Zuko’s outstretched arms. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you thank you.”

Zuko squeezed him softly. “You don’t have to thank me.”

The words made his eyes water. Nothing fell, but the sentiment was so pure that it elicited the beginnings of tears.

“Would it-- would it help you if I rearranged the room so we could sit next to each other?” Zuko spoke up, pulling away just enough so they could see each other. “I know that would make meetings more enjoyable for me, but if it would help you I don’t mind-- I mean I can easily do that.”

Sokka leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his boyfriend’s nose. “Are you sure? I don’t want to cause a ruckus or anything. I don’t want you to always have to accommodate me--”

“Hey, it’s not like you’re asking me to reconstruct the entire room,” chuckled Zuko, copying Sokka and kissing his boyfriend. The warmth of his lips was so calming, so elegant, so _homely._ “Do you want to go lay down? This was my last meeting of th--”

“YES!” Sokka scrambled to his feet before Zuko could even finish his sentence. Unfortunately, being the Fire Lord meant working. A lot. Any uninterrupted non-work related time they could spend together was a gift, something he cherished dearly. He coughed when he caught sight of Zuko's amused grin. “I mean, ahem, yes-- _yuh-yuh-yuh-yes!-yes--_ I would love to.”

He extended a hand to Zuko, helping him up, and eagerly lead his laughing boyfriend out the door (and Spirits, Zuko’s laugh was the most beautiful sound in the entire world).

They ran to the bender's room hand in hand. Sure, it was childish, but weren’t they still children (no, not really. Sometimes, it was nice to pretend, though)? They ignored quizzical or disapproving looks (sometimes he really hated the Fire Nation elders-- they had no idea how to live life), instead, Sokka stared at Zuko in admiration. How did he get so lucky?

At this point, Zuko’s room was practically Sokka’s room too. The two boys fell naturally onto the bed together (sometimes it felt as if it were made for them).

“I love you,” Sokka said, scooting closer to Zuko until they were inches apart. “I love you,” he repeated, tilting his head so their foreheads were touching. And a third time, “I love you”, with a kiss on the lips.

Zuko’s face turned a light shade of red, and he rolled his eyes, placing one hand on the back of Sokka’s head, toying with his hair once more. “I also love you, tics and chairs and all.”

“Mmmm.”

“And for the record, I would reconstruct the entire palace if you asked me to.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed:)
> 
> I kind of hate the end of this, but I was determined to finish this today and really wanted to include that last line because cheesy:)
> 
> my tumblr is @that-was-anticlimactic if you ever want to talk about Zukka or Sokka with TS or... anything, haha!
> 
> Hope you have a great day / night / morning / afternoon:)


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